Our uninvited guest rose from his seat in the hallway as I approached, steaming mug of molten chocolate in hand.

A thin smile creased his face as he hugged his clipboard tighter to his chest. “Ah, good morning, Miss Freebird. I sincerely apologize for interrupting you yesterday when you were, ah--” He cleared his throat. “--suffering from multiple grievous injuries and bleeding out all over your wonderful carpet.”

I glanced down at the rug, stained dark from yesterday's adventure. “It's alright, don't worry about it. I mean, no, it's not alright, and you should probably worry. Nobody knows I'm here. This fort is miles from the nearest trail, and days from even the closest settlement. Let's start with how you know who I am and who gave up my location.”

The glowing man's smile died a bit, but the cheer didn't leave his voice. “It wasn't terribly difficult, you see. My employers are, shall we say, on the omnipotent side. My name's Dalton. Reggie Dalton. It's a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance.”

Dalton extended a hand. I arched an eyebrow at it.

“Continue,” I sternly ordered.

The glowing man pulled his hand back in, fidgeting with the papers attached to the clipboard. “Ah, anyway, as I said, my employers are of a higher sort. I am a representative of Pantheon Solutions, Ltd. We are an organization dedicated to the continuation of the betterment of human- and humanoid-kind through synergistic, faith-based methods.”

“You're a cult.”

Dalton raised his hands defensively. “Absolutely not! Cults are scattershot and unrefined in their technique, and usually fade out in short order. Sometimes literally, other times in a more cosmic sense. Pantheon Solutions, Ltd. has been around for eons, remaining one of the top corporations in the market thanks to their ability to adapt with the changing needs of their clientele.”

What in the seven hells was going on here?

“But the reason I've contacted you, Miss Freebird, is because we recently had a position open up in, shall we say, our upper management. We've received your resume, and after some--”

“Hang on, hang on,” I interrupted. “Resume? What are you talking about?”

“Your resume.” Dalton cocked his head slightly. “You know, a neatly-organized list of your accomplishments and--”

“I know what a resume is,” I grumbled. “I never submitted one to you--in fact, I've never even heard of your, what did you say it was? Pantheon Solutions?”

“We get that an awful lot, I'm afraid.”

I waived a dismissive hand in the air. “Either way, I never submitted a resume. I've never even written one up.”

“And yet--” Dalton flicked his clipboard with an immaculate fingernail.

I sighed deeply. “Look, I don't know why you're here, but I want you out of my house. Go away, never return, and tell your employers or whoever that they can fuck right off.”

Dalton pursed his lips and thought for a moment as I turned away from him. I got about two steps down the hall before I was enveloped by a blinding light.